


The Thalmor and His Elf

by phoenixquest



Series: Ryndoril and Ondolemar [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Anal Sex, Fluff, M/M, Oral Sex, Sex, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 03:49:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1413973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixquest/pseuds/phoenixquest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryndoril, a Bosmer, tries to get his lover Ondolemar to take a break from his paperwork. Eventually, he makes a convincing argument. Sweet, fluffy, and sex.</p>
<p>Skyrim and its content belongs to Bethesda, not to me...though I will take full credit for Ryn and his Ondolemar-obsession ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Thalmor and His Elf

“Ondolemar, you work too hard,” Ryndoril grinned, walking into the Thalmor agent’s chambers.

“And you work far too little,” Ondolemar snorted, looking up to see the wood elf standing in his doorway, clad in his usual well-fitted armor, baring just enough darker skin to distract Ondolemar and letting his shoulder-length red hair hang free. He managed a tired smile. “Hello, Ryn.”

“Hi,” Ryndoril said with a softer smile, walking over to the mer. Determining that Ondolemar’s suffocating guards were not around, he pulled the Thalmor’s hood back and wrapped his arms around his neck, kissing his ear. Ondolemar shuddered as the stubble on Ryndoril’s chin brushed the sensitive spot.

“Ryndoril, not now,” Ondolemar breathed, his cheeks tingeing with pink. “I must finish this report for the Ambassador.”

“Ah, hang the Ambassador,” Ryndoril laughed softly, squeezing Ondolemar’s shoulders. Ondolemar huffed, turning to look at the wood elf with wide eyes.

“You need to watch your tongue,” Ondolemar admonished him. “You’ll get _yourself_ hanged.”

“Going to turn me in, love?” Ryndoril grinned cheekily. Ondolemar rolled his eyes.

“You are an idiot,” Ondolemar concluded, turning back to his desk.

“You’re so romantic,” Ryndoril teased, moving away from the Altmer and coming around to lean against his desk. “What’s this oh-so-important report about, anyway?”

“What is it always about?” Ondolemar sighed wearily, setting down his quill and running his hand through his long, golden hair. “Talos worship.”

“Those damn heretics,” Ryndoril laughed. Ondolemar gave him a dirty look. “Oh, come on, Ondolemar. Lighten up once in a while – they’re not going to go anywhere just because you didn’t catch them for a day.”

“ _Some_ of us think it important to do our jobs properly,” Ondolemar said disdainfully. “ _Some_ of us don’t go gallivanting off into rotting ruins every other day.”

“Did you miss me, love?” Ryndoril winked roguishly. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to come back sooner next time.”

“You are impossible,” Ondolemar shook his head, but couldn’t help a small smile tugging the corners of his mouth. “Go away.”

“Okay,” Ryndoril nodded, pushing away from the desk. Ondolemar looked at him in surprise; the elf was never so obedient. 

To no one’s surprise, however, Ryndoril walked directly over to the bed, kicking off his boots as though he hadn’t a care in the world before flopping down on it. The bed was made of stone, but it hadn’t taken a week of sleeping on the damn thing for Ondolemar to insist upon a featherbed to top it, so it was quite comfortable. Ryndoril propped his head up with his hands as he stared back at Ondolemar, a flirtatious grin on his face. 

“Better?”

Ondolemar snorted, shaking his head and turning back to his paperwork. “You’re going to be enjoying that bed by yourself.”

“That what gets you going?” Ryndoril teased. A noise of frustration escaped Ondolemar’s throat.

“Dammit, Ryn,” Ondolemar snapped, “I’ve got to finish this tonight if I’m to get it to the courier in the morning!” Ryndoril sighed, sitting up properly and looking over at the Thalmor in worry.

“I do wish you wouldn’t work yourself so hard,” Ryndoril said seriously. “I worry about you.”

“I’m fine,” Ondolemar said shortly. “If you must worry about something, worry about what the Ambassador will do when I fail to give her my regular reports on time.”

“I worry about that, too,” Ryndoril smirked, getting to his feet again. He casually pulled off his leather armor, leaving himself clad only in his trousers as he crossed the room back to the Altmer. “Come on, love,” he murmured in the mer’s ear, putting his hands on the leather-clad shoulders. “You need to relax.”

“I will relax when I am finished with these reports,” Ondolemar said obstinately, trying to ignore the shiver that ran through him when he felt the touch of Ryndoril’s breath.

“Or you can relax now, and finish the reports later,” Ryndoril suggested huskily, placing a kiss right on Ondolemar’s ear tip. 

“Stop it,” Ondolemar growled, pushing the other mer away. “Get out of here, Ryndoril. I’m busy.” Ryndoril sighed, looking at Ondolemar sadly.

“All right,” Ryndoril quietly agreed. It only stung him a little, as he knew just how stubborn and work-obsessed his lover could be. Truly he was far more concerned about Ondolemar’s clearly-overworked state than he was about the dismissal.

He walked back over to the bed, pulling on his boots and armor, eyes not leaving Ondolemar. He’d seen the other mer’s shoulders hunch a bit when he started getting dressed, and he knew Ondolemar was feeling guilty about his outburst, but it was a better idea to simply leave him be for a little while.

Without another word, he went over and gently kissed the top of Ondolemar’s head before walking out the door, shutting it quietly behind him.

Ondolemar sighed heavily, slamming his quill down and putting his face in his hands. He felt bad for talking to the wood elf in such a way; the mer was his dearest friend and he _hadn’t_ seen him in two weeks.

But there was nothing for it now, he knew. He would just have to apologize later. He _had_ to get these reports sent out first thing in the morning, and that meant finishing them that night whether he wanted to or not.

Resigning himself to it, and wishing he’d at least let Ryndoril stay (if for no other reason than the company), Ondolemar got back to work.

*****

Not an hour later, Ondolemar’s door opened once more. He glanced hopefully around, knowing before he did it was simply going to be one of his guards, but hoping it was Ryndoril. Unfortunately, his instinct had been correct.

“Rolain,” he muttered tersely, nodding at his guard before turning back to his papers. The letters were swimming before his eyes now, and it was almost impossible to even concentrate.

“My lord,” Rolain nodded back. “Is there anything else you need this evening?”

“No, Rolain,” Ondolemar sighed. “You and Cyndil may retire.”

“Good evening, my lord,” Rolain said with another respectful nod before leaving and shutting the door.

“Hang the Ambassador,” Ondolemar muttered, throwing his quill down in frustration again and pushing away from his desk. He quite agreed with Ryndoril’s assessment at the moment.

“Now, now, watch your tongue, Ondolemar.”

Ryndoril’s teasing voice nearly made Ondolemar jump out of his skin. He spun around, almost falling out of his chair, to see the wood elf leaning against the wall by the door, a cocky grin on his face, wearing a plain tunic, trousers, and shoes this time. Ondolemar could see little dark spots on the tunic’s shoulders, indicating the darker red hair was damp.

“Ryn,” Ondolemar said, feeling vastly relieved at the sight of his lover. “I thought you were going.” Ryndoril strode back toward Ondolemar.

“And I did,” Ryndoril said, leaning against the desk again. Dammit, but the Bosmer had no right to look so damn… _inviting!_...leaning against something that way. “But I came back.”

“When?” Ondolemar demanded. “That door hasn’t opened until – “

“Your guards aren’t that observant,” Ryndoril smirked. “I snuck in right behind him.”

“You sneaky elf,” Ondolemar said, a slight smile pulling at his lips. “I didn’t expect you to return tonight.”

“’I’m sorry, Ryn, I was a rude jerk and I’ll never do it again,’” Ryndoril grinned. “I’m sure that’s the translation, anyway.” Ondolemar let out a brief laugh, a half-smile on his face now.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he murmured, staring at the mer. Ryndoril’s brown eyes crinkled with the force of his smile.

“I knew you missed me,” Ryndoril teased, moving away from the desk and standing next to Ondolemar. He reached over to push a lock of Ondolemar’s long hair behind his ear.

“Why did you return?” Ondolemar asked, wholly curious.

“You think I was going to leave you on your own?” Ryndoril asked, shaking his head in disbelief. “Even if you were an ass, I’m not that cruel. But…I’d just gotten back before,” he admitted. “Only stopped at Vlindrel Hall long enough to put away my things before coming to see you. Figured I could have a bath…and let you cool down a little.”

Ondolemar just stared at him. How he had ever found this elf who always seemed to simply _know_ …it was a mystery to him.

“Ready to stop yet?” Ryndoril went on, stroking the mer’s cheek and down to his chin. Ondolemar sighed, glancing hopelessly back at the papers on his desk.

“I really do need to finish those,” he said. “You know the Ambassador is not a patient woman.”

“I don’t care a whit about that hag,” Ryndoril said impatiently. “It’s you I’m worried about, love.” Ondolemar couldn’t help but smile at that; he thoroughly enjoyed the way the Bosmer referred to him like that.

“Just – let me finish up these last few?” Ondolemar bargained, his eyes on Ryndoril’s. Ryndoril rolled his eyes.

“Oh, all right,” the Bosmer replied, gesturing to the papers. “Go on, then.”

Ondolemar turned back to the desk fully, hoping he could manage to focus his attention now he wasn’t worried about Ryndoril being upset with him.

“So who’s in trouble for blasphemy today?” Ryndoril chuckled, moving behind Ondolemar and starting to gently rub his shoulders.

“No one here,” Ondolemar said absently. “My patrollers found another shrine full of the heretics, so I’ve got to fill out the paperwork for that mess.”

“A Justiciar’s work is never done,” Ryndoril sighed playfully, moving his hands up to massage Ondolemar’s neck. The Altmer let out a groan of pleasure, closing his eyes for a moment.

“That feels lovely,” he admitted, leaning back into Ryndoril’s touch. The Bosmer grinned.

“Good,” Ryndoril nodded, leaning down to place a kiss on Ondolemar’s head. “But I thought you said you had to finish?”

“I do,” Ondolemar grumbled, opening his eyes and making a face at the paper in front of him. “You’re distracting me.”

“I’m so very sorry,” Ryndoril teased, clearly not sorry at all. He moved his hands around the front of Ondolemar, undoing the catches on his Thalmor robes.

“Impatient, are you?” Ondolemar asked, torn between amusement and exasperation.

“I can’t rub your shoulders very well through this leather,” Ryndoril grinned against his neck. “I’m trying to help.” Ondolemar shook his head, but helped the wood elf finish unclasping his robes to his waist, sliding them off his shoulders – that was just going to have to be good enough for the moment.

“Mmm,” Ryndoril said happily, trailing his fingers over the Altmer’s newly-bared skin. “Much better, love.” Ondolemar sighed loudly with relief as the Bosmer’s strong hands kneaded the muscles in his shoulders and upper back. “So tense.”

“That’s what happens when you leave me for two weeks,” Ondolemar sniffed haughtily.

“That doesn’t mean you have to work yourself to death because I’m not here,” Ryndoril said, continuing to massage Ondolemar’s shoulders. The muscles _were_ very tense, and Ryndoril could hardly wait to work all the stress out of him. He grinned. “Senna asked after you. You could go visit her, you know.” Ondolemar whipped his head around to find the other elf’s eyes sparkling with mischief.

“As if I’d set foot in that place,” Ondolemar said, shaking his head as he turned back to his work. The priestesses at the temple of Dibella were a little…enthusiastic.

“She still likes you,” Ryndoril shrugged. “Damned if I can see why, but…”

“I’m going to make you leave again,” Ondolemar muttered. He was already thoroughly distracted, and wasn’t sure he was going to manage to get anything else done anyway.

“Liar,” Ryndoril murmured in his ear, a hint of laughter in his voice.

“Why do you even go in there, anyway?” Ondolemar grumbled, trying again to focus.

“Well, Dibella _is_ the goddess of beauty and love,” Ryndoril said. “So who better than beautiful me to pay her a visit now and then?” Ondolemar snorted.

“Dibella aside, you know what those women are after,” Ondolemar said.

“Are you jealous, love?” Ryndoril laughed. “Afraid I’m off enjoying them and not you?”

“I know very well how they behave in that temple,” Ondolemar said. “Pawing at anyone who walks in the door.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re beautiful, too,” Ryndoril grinned, squeezing the Altmer’s shoulders. “Besides,” he added, leaning down to whisper in Ondolemar’s ear, “you know you’re the only one I want pawing at me.” He felt Ondolemar shudder at the breath on his sensitive ear; he loved doing that.

“I am not _beautiful_ ,” Ondolemar protested, though his voice was quite breathy. “I am a superiorly-bred specimen of Altmer – “

“Yeah, yeah,” Ryndoril laughed, and he decided he’d had enough. He came around in front of Ondolemar, straddling the other mer’s lap and sitting on his legs, blocking his access to the desk. He gently took the quill from between Ondolemar’s long fingers, tossing it on the desk before bringing his own fingers up to tangle in the elf’s golden hair. “ _I_ think you’re beautiful,” he murmured quite sincerely, before pulling Ondolemar to him for a deep kiss.

Ondolemar’s hands, of their own accord, came up to settle on Ryndoril’s hips, a low groan escaping his mouth as the Bosmer’s tongue brushed his own.

It really had been too long, and he was working _much_ too hard.

“There you go,” Ryndoril murmured, pulling back just enough to look at his lover’s face. “That’s more like it.” Ondolemar’s eyes were half-closed in pleasure, the smallest of smiles playing at his lips.

“Ryn,” Ondolemar breathed, squeezing his fingers on the Bosmer’s hips. Ryndoril smiled, tugging his fingers through the mer’s hair.

“I missed you, too,” Ryndoril whispered. He let his fingers fall from the golden tresses before drawing them down the finely muscled chest to where the Thalmor robes were still buckled. Ryndoril made short work of the rest of the catches, undoing the robes entirely and grinning as he looked upon his lover’s body. “Now _that’s_ what I missed.”

“You are ridiculous,” Ondolemar snorted, trailing his fingers up Ryndoril’s back and pulling him in for another kiss. Ryndoril kept his hands pressed against Ondolemar’s chest as his tongue flicked the Altmer’s bottom lip.

“Sure you don’t need to finish your work?” Ryndoril taunted as he pulled away, grinning at his lover.

“I hate you,” Ondolemar said, rolling his eyes in amusement.

“Don’t worry,” Ryndoril chuckled. “I’ll help you finish it later.”

And then they were utterly entwined, Ryndoril impatiently pushing the Thalmor robes off the Altmer in front of him while Ondolemar tugged the Bosmer’s tunic over his head between breathless kisses, just as impatient for him. Finally, skin bared, the two pressed together, arms locked tight around the other’s shoulders.

Ryndoril pulled back from the kiss to breathe heavily as he stared at Ondolemar’s hungry eyes, pressing his forehead and nose against the Altmer’s features.

Ondolemar ran his fingers gently over the wood elf’s skin, marred by so many scars from an adventurous life, and tilted his head to press a gentle kiss to soft lips again. He paused then, frowning, as his fingers traced over a more prominent mark, then another next to it; those marks were unfamiliar under his fingers and he pulled his head back to look at Ryndoril properly.

“Ryn?” he questioned, moving his fingers over the spot. Ryndoril smiled gently.

“Just a sabre-cat,” Ryndoril murmured. “I’m fine.” He felt the warmth of healing magic flowing into him and grinned. “You know you don’t have to do that.”

“If you would only learn more healing magic, you’d have nothing but a faint scar there anyway,” Ondolemar grumbled.

“You know I’m terrible with magic,” Ryndoril chuckled.

“Ridiculous,” Ondolemar said, shaking his head. “I still can’t believe you’re a mer who can’t perform a spell.”

“In my defense, I can kind of make fire,” Ryndoril said. “But…thank you, love.” Ondolemar gave him a small smile, tracing his fingers gently over the fully-healed marks, though they still left scars.

“You’re welcome,” Ondolemar said softly, and reached up for another soft kiss. Ryndoril gladly obliged him. “And you worry about _me_ ,” Ondolemar added as they pulled apart again.

“With good reason,” Ryndoril said. “I’m just fine, and you’re still overworked.”

“Yet I’m not the one getting mauled by sabre-cats,” Ondolemar said.

“No, just by a handsome wood elf,” Ryndoril grinned, kissing Ondolemar hard on the lips before trailing his kisses down the elf’s chin, across his jaw, and up to his ear.

“Ohh,” Ondolemar replied, unable to form a word for protest. “Ryn…”

“Yes, love?” Ryndoril whispered, flicking his tongue over the tip of Ondolemar’s sensitive ear. He felt the mer thrust up against his legs involuntarily and laughed huskily. He got up off the Altmer’s lap, pulling Ondolemar to his feet as well and letting the Thalmor robe slide to the ground.

Both standing now, Ryndoril looked up into Ondolemar’s drowsy-looking eyes, a smile on his face. Gods, but the Altmer _was_ beautiful, he thought, despite any protests. Long golden hair spilling over his shoulders, almond-shaped eyes and slanted nose above a mouth that so often scowled but with Ryndoril, always managed to look pleased. A lovely, shapely neck leading to a perfectly-muscled torso, sprinkled with fine hairs, and lean but muscular arms – which Ryndoril loved feeling wrapped around his slighter frame, just as they were at the moment.

Ondolemar did much the same, eyeing his lover’s body; partly to admire the lean chest, and partly to assess whether any further damage had been done since he’d last seen the Bosmer. Ryndoril’s face was kind, and he always had a smile for Ondolemar; his almost-rounded eyes always crinkled a bit when he grinned so hugely, and around the Altmer, that happened often. Ondolemar brought his fingers up to run through Ryndoril’s still-slightly-damp hair, darker red than usual for the water still in it, then cupped his head and leaned down to kiss him again. He often felt he could never get enough of this mer.

Ryndoril used the opportunity to slide his hands down Ondolemar’s torso, running his fingers just under the waistband of the leather trousers and making the elf shudder before starting to unlace them.

“Impatient, are we?” Ondolemar murmured against Ryndoril’s lips, still lost in the Bosmer’s fiery hair and soft lips.

“I know you’ve been too busy working to miss me,” Ryndoril teased, tugging on the trouser laces, “but sabre-cats aside, I missed you very much.”

“You know I missed you,” Ondolemar replied softly, moving his fingers to caress the Bosmer’s ears and making him groan. He smiled as Ryndoril pushed his trousers off his hips, baring him entirely, but didn’t touch him yet. “Like that?”

“Mmhmm,” Ryndoril hummed, eyes closed as he savored the pleasant feeling of Ondolemar’s fingers on his own sensitive ear tips. He leaned in to kiss the Altmer’s chest, breathing in as his lips pressed to the pale golden skin and breathing out with a smile. He loved the scent Ondolemar always seemed to have, no doubt from the Thalmor robes; leather, always leather, mixed with just a bit of pine and something like snow. Wrapping his arms around the Altmer’s waist, Ryndoril leaned in to his chest, resting his head against the firm muscle and simply enjoying Ondolemar’s touch.

He was already rather hard; he had missed Ondolemar a lot, and as with most mer, having his ears fondled in such a way drove him straight into desire. He felt Ondolemar’s chest move before he really heard the soft chuckle, and then the Altmer’s arms were around him, holding Ryndoril to him.

“You do relax me,” Ondolemar confessed quietly, kicking off his boots and removing his trousers entirely before embracing Ryndoril and simply standing there to enjoy it. “More than I could say.”

“Good,” Ryndoril smiled, pressing his lips to Ondolemar’s chest again briefly. “Someone needs to.” Ondolemar gave his ear a sharp pinch then, causing Ryndoril to twitch and cry out in surprise.

“Insolent elf,” Ondolemar smirked, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. “Come on.” He pulled Ryndoril over to the bed, unlacing the Bosmer’s trousers and pulling them down his legs as Ondolemar knelt before him, removing his shoes and then his trousers.

Even kneeling, Ondolemar’s head nearly reached the wood elf’s chest, but he bent forward so he was level with Ryndoril’s cock, pressing his lips gently to it.

“Gods,” Ryndoril said, his voice strangled as his hips bucked forward involuntarily. “Ondolemar, please…”

“So very impatient,” Ondolemar teased, but he placed his hands on the Bosmer’s hips and took the head of his cock between his lips anyway. Ryndoril’s hands fluttered to Ondolemar’s hair as he sighed with pleasure.

“Oh, yes,” Ryndoril breathed, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back. “Ahh…”

 _And_ I _was the tense one_ , Ondolemar thought, smirking around the Bosmer’s member. He could feel Ryndoril relaxing, nearly melting into his touch as Ondolemar’s tongue swirled around the head of his cock.

Little gave him more pleasure than pleasing his lover.

“That’s it, love,” Ryndoril murmured encouragingly, as he always did, one hand stroking through Ondolemar’s golden hair while the other found an eartip to play with. Ondolemar himself hardened further at that sensation, and he groaned around Ryndoril’s cock. “Ahhh….oh _yes_ ,” Ryndoril hissed.

Ondolemar took him further in his mouth, Ryndoril hitting the back of his throat now before concentrating hard and pressing his lips the rest of the way onto the wood elf. Ryndoril yelped, tightening his fingers in Ondolemar’s hair as Ondolemar focused on not gagging while the Bosmer’s cock sank down his throat, his nose pressing against Ryndoril’s skin. He knew the other mer liked how it felt, but he always had a little trouble keeping himself from gagging.

Of course, Ryndoril always told him he just needed more practice.

“Fuck,” Ryndoril panted, holding the Altmer’s head still. He looked down, seeing the golden hair between his fingers as Ondolemar’s forehead pressed up against his stomach. Gods, but he would never get enough of that!

Eventually Ondolemar had to pull back, though, panting slightly for breath as he paused to flick his tongue around the head of Ryndoril’s cock.

“By the Eight, you’re good at that,” Ryndoril praised, and Ondolemar couldn’t help a smug grin as he squeezed the Bosmer’s hips. The high elf took Ryndoril between his lips again, sucking gently on the tip, and finally Ryndoril’s knees buckled and he fell on the bed. Ondolemar laughed throatily.

“Welcome back,” Ondolemar smirked, getting to his feet to join Ryndoril on the bed. The Bosmer grinned.

“If that’s the welcome I get, I’ll have to leave for two weeks more often,” Ryndoril remarked, earning him a dirty look from Ondolemar.

“Or you could stop leaving so long altogether,” Ondolemar shot back, poking the wood elf’s side as they lay back together on the pillows. Ryndoril smiled and captured Ondolemar’s lips.

“You know I always come back for you,” Ryndoril murmured as he pulled away, his fingers laying against Ondolemar’s cheek. Ondolemar smiled softly.

“I know,” he agreed. Ryndoril kissed him once more, his fingers sliding down Ondolemar’s chest to the Altmer’s jutting cock, gripping him gently and stroking. “Auri-El…” Ondolemar whimpered at the touch, more desperate for Ryndoril than he’d realized.

“Better?” Ryndoril teased, getting to his knees and staring down at the gorgeous high elf.

“Yes,” Ondolemar breathed. “Yes…” Ryndoril smiled, leaning over to plant kisses all over Ondolemar’s chest, moving down his torso and flicking his tongue against the mer’s side. Ondolemar jerked away with a breathless laugh. “That tickles.”

“I know,” Ryndoril grinned, giving him a particularly hard stroke. Ondolemar groaned, bucking into his fingers. Ryndoril moved down the bed, settling himself between the Altmer’s spread legs, still stroking his length. “Oils?”

“In th-the dr-r-raawer!” Ondolemar shuddered as Ryndoril picked up the pace unexpectedly, grinning. “Oh, gods!” Ryndoril laughed, slowing back down and giving him a slight squeeze before removing his hand altogether. “Ryn…” It was almost a whine.

“Just hold on,” Ryndoril chuckled. He leaned up to get the oil from the drawer Ondolemar kept it in, pressing himself along the Altmer’s body as he did so. Once he had the little bottle in hand, Ondolemar pulled him down on top of him, kissing him hard as their bare skin pressed together. Ryndoril could feel Ondolemar’s cock twitching between them, and it made him a little desperate; he did love seeing Ondolemar come undone beneath him.

“I want you,” Ondolemar whispered between harsh kisses, his hands clutching at Ryndoril’s shoulders. “Please…”

“You’re going to have to let me up if you want me to do anything but rut against you,” Ryndoril replied cheekily, his voice just as breathy as the Altmer’s. Ondolemar smiled sheepishly before loosening his grip on the wood elf.

Ryndoril slid himself back down Ondolemar’s body, making sure to touch him as much as possible. Once settled again, he opened the little bottle, coating two of his fingers in the special oil they used for lubrication. Setting the bottle aside, his eyes not leaving Ondolemar’s darkened ones, he slid the slickened fingers down the bottom side of the Altmer’s cock, over his balls, and up to the tight little opening behind them.

Ondolemar let out a strangled whimper as Ryndoril slowly stroked his fingers over the ring of muscle, his eyes closing as he wriggled slightly. Ryndoril grinned; oh, he _loved_ this.

“Ready for me, love?” he whispered, eyes not leaving Ondolemar’s face. The high elf nodded impatiently, clearly trying to control his breathing, and Ryndoril began to push one slickened finger inside him.

“Ohhhhh,” Ondolemar groaned, every muscle in his body relaxing at his lover’s touch. It had been too long, far too long, and he wanted the wood elf desperately. “Yes…yes…Ryn…”

“That’s right,” Ryndoril smiled, Ondolemar’s cries going from his ears straight to his cock. Once the first finger was fully inside the elf, Ryndoril pulled it out, thrusting it back in again and making Ondolemar jump.

He was ready, there was no doubt about that; it was no trouble at all for Ryndoril to push a second slickened finger inside him, working him gently. Ondolemar’s small, whimpered cries of pleasure spurred him on until he was furiously slamming his fingers into him, brushing over the sensitive spot inside with every thrust.

“Please, Ryn, I need you,” Ondolemar finally begged, panting. “Please…Auri-El… _now_!” Ryndoril laughed, slowing the pace of his fingers and already feeling Ondolemar clenching slightly around him.

“You’re so demanding,” Ryndoril teased, though he wanted it quite as much. Pulling his fingers free from Ondolemar, he picked up the little bottle of oil again, coating his cock liberally with it before tossing it aside again. He wanted to touch Ondolemar, to stroke him; but he had a feeling the desperate Altmer wouldn’t last very long if he did, so he held off.

Quite ready now, Ryndoril adjusted Ondolemar’s legs, giving him proper access, before pressing his cock against the Altmer’s opening.

“Ondolemar, look at me, love,” Ryndoril whispered, wanting to see his lover’s eyes. Ondolemar obeyed, and Ryndoril could see his own desperation and need reflected in the high elf’s gaze. He smiled slightly and began to push inside the Altmer, his gaze not leaving the pointed face.

Gods, but he was so damn tight, Ryndoril thought dazedly. It was always like this, every time; Ryndoril nearly struck dumb by the feeling of Ondolemar’s body enveloping him like this. 

“Yes,” Ondolemar growled; this happened every time, too. Ryndoril would attempt to go slow, to savor the sensation, and Ondolemar would become an animal, guttural noises issuing from his throat as he begged Ryndoril to move. This time he even leaned up to grab the Bosmer’s hips, pulling at him until Ryndoril was sheathed inside him, both of them panting.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Ryndoril breathed, staring at the Altmer spread before him, speared on his cock. “I love fucking you.”

“Then _do it_ ,” Ondolemar growled between gritted teeth, his chest heaving. Ryndoril snorted at the Altmer’s impatience, but began to pull out of him; the tight muscle sliding along his length was intoxicating. 

He glanced down, idly curious, and saw Ondolemar’s cock red and swollen, clearly desperate for stimulation, but still he managed to hold back from touching it. Once he was almost free of Ondolemar, he thrust back inside all at once, hard.

“Ryn!” Ondolemar shouted, his long fingers clutching the bed linens. “Oh, gods!”

“That what you were wanting, love?” Ryndoril said, his own voice almost a growl as he pulled back out, thrusting in again a second later to a desperate cry from the Altmer. “That better?”

“Yes, gods, fucking _yes_!” Ondolemar ground out hoarsely. Ryndoril grinned; his lover was so mouthy when they did this.

“That’s it, love, enjoy it, enjoy me fucking you,” Ryndoril said through gritted teeth, his grin feral as he snapped his hips back and forth, sliding in and out of Ondolemar. Two weeks was much too long, he decided; he wasn’t going to last long inside him this time.

Ondolemar was shouting; he could never be quiet, but Ryndoril never minded. His words made little sense, but they were all in the fierce, guttural tone that told Ryndoril his lover needed it, needed it so badly. 

Ryndoril watched as he slammed into Ondolemar, watching the high elf’s heaving chest, writhing muscles, and blissful face. Ondolemar’s eyes had closed again in pleasure, and Ryndoril couldn’t bring himself to make him open them. In what looked like an unconscious effort, Ondolemar’s hand reached for his own throbbing member.

“Ah ah,” Ryndoril chastised, his voice low and rough as he pushed Ondolemar’s hand away. “None of that.”

“Please,” Ondolemar begged, forcing his eyes open. “Please…I need…oh gods, _please_!” Ryndoril couldn’t help smiling down at his lover. He couldn’t deny the mer any longer, and so gripped the Altmer’s cock himself, stroking hard for every fierce thrust he gave him. “Yes!” Ondolemar cried, thrusting up into Ryndoril’s touch and making it a little difficult for the Bosmer to keep pace with him.

“Easy, love,” Ryndoril said, adjusting slightly so he could follow Ondolemar’s movements. Ondolemar groaned out each breath, desperately thrusting up into Ryndoril’s grip, and after only a few more hard thrusts, Ondolemar was coming, hot, sticky release spilling from his cock as Ryndoril stroked it. 

Ondolemar’s long, loud moan of pleasure coupled with the impossible tightness of his clenched muscles left Ryndoril not far behind, emptying himself inside the Altmer with a harsh cry of his name.

The two remained in their positions for a few moments, both panting hard, before Ryndoril gently removed his hand from the Altmer’s softening cock, his own slipping out of him as well. He remained kneeling between Ondolemar’s legs, simply looking at the beauty of the high elf before him; sweaty, panting, and covered in his own seed.

“Beautiful,” Ryndoril murmured, his hand gently stroking Ondolemar’s inner thigh. Ondolemar huffed out a breath, rolling his eyes but not protesting. Smiling at him, Ryndoril moved away from the bed, picking up his tunic from the floor and bringing it over to Ondolemar. The Altmer smiled contentedly up at Ryndoril, letting the wood elf wipe his semen from him.

“Hope that shirt wasn’t a favorite of yours,” Ondolemar mumbled sleepily.

“It is now,” Ryndoril grinned, finishing up and tossing it back on the floor. Ondolemar breathed out a laugh.

“Thank you, Ryn,” Ondolemar said quietly, his eyes already closed. Ryndoril laughed; Ondolemar notoriously fell asleep almost immediately afterward.

“For fucking you?” Ryndoril asked cheekily. Ondolemar swatted halfheartedly at him, his fingers barely brushing the wood elf’s chest.

“For keeping me sane,” Ondolemar said, a slight smile on his lips as he managed to open his eyes. Ryndoril smiled back, leaning over from his kneeling position next to Ondolemar to kiss him softly.

“Always, love,” Ryndoril murmured, pressing a kiss to his cheek as well. “Sleep well.”

“You too,” Ondolemar replied, though it sounded much more like “mumtum” in his sleepy state. Ryndoril chuckled, shaking his head; Ondolemar hadn’t even managed to pull the blanket down before falling asleep this time. Ryndoril got up to get the spare furs, knowing they’d be warm enough with one another anyway, and settled back onto the bed. Ondolemar pulled the smaller elf into his arms, and Ryndoril contentedly drifted off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I have NO IDEA why this pairing came to me, but it totally did and wouldn't leave me alone. My first attempt EVER at a slash pairing, so I hope I did it justice...I'm really proud of this one, and though I just thought of them a few nights ago, this is my new favorite pairing of mine! I loved writing this and already have some ideas about other bits and pieces for these two :D
> 
> Cyndil & Rolain are what I decided to name Ondolemar's guards, because I couldn't find any information about their actual names anywhere, so...


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